


Make your Mark on Me

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, Canadian Shack, First Time, M/M, OMG I can't believe I wrote an Omega-verse story!, Tattoos, alpha!Phil, except it's in Alaska, omega!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An op goes wrong, a blizzard blows in, Clint goes into heat, and Phil has a decision to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make your Mark on Me

**Warning** : There are non-explicit references to Omega-verse non-con/dub-con which happened in the past. There are no descriptions of non-con or dub-con in the story, and no non-con/dub-con between Phil & Clint. Please read the end notes for more (slightly spoilery) details if you're worried about your triggers.

~~~~~~

It was one of those ops that should have been a cakewalk and instead turned into a total clusterfuck, because the intel hadn't been quite good enough and the bad guys had been more organized, more paranoid, more ruthless, and just plain more than anyone had expected.

There were in Alaska, because these particular bad guys indulged their paranoia by meeting to make the exchange (stolen Hydra tech for money and drugs) in the remotest possible places. Phil Coulson's team, consisting of Clint Barton and three junior agents, had staked out the meet location twenty-four hours in advance. It should have been a simple take-down, Hawkeye up in a tall pine tree with a sniper rifle and Coulson and the junior agents in two separate camouflaged blinds. Except that first, the meet was delayed. So they ended up winter camping for three days with only basic survival gear, which they were trained for, of course, but still wasn't anyone's idea of a good time. And then, the location of the meet was suddenly changed, and they had to hike across 30 miles of tundra carrying all their gear, and set up again with only two hours to spare on practically no sleep. 

And then the bad guys had sent in extra teams to sweep the area, and one of the hastily-set-up blinds didn't hold up to the sweep and then the shooting started. The meet was a bust, with the primary targets peeling off on snowmobiles before anyone had a chance to even aim at them, let alone retrieve the tech, money, or drugs. Hawkeye and Coulson had taken out the rest of the bad guys, but not before one of the junior agents took a bullet. And just to make matters worse, the sky darkened and a blizzard blew in. 

Coulson called for evac, and two small choppers came out of the sky. Coulson loaded the three junior agents into the first one to touch down while Barton kept his eyes and his rifle on the horizon - or what passed for the horizon when it was snowing so hard that he could barely see the end of his barrel. The first chopper took off as the second one was coming in to land, and Coulson had just opened his mouth to yell at Barton to get on board when the shooting started again. The bad guys on the snowmobiles must have stopped at a higher vantage point and were aiming at the choppers. 

Barton returned fire, but he couldn't fucking see anything, not even muzzle flash. He was firing blind, relying on sound alone to guess where the bad guys might be shooting from, which, with echoes bouncing around the mountainous terrain, was pretty much futile.

"Go! Go! Go! Get the fuck out of here!" Coulson shouted over the radio to both of the chopper pilots. The one carrying the junior agents made it to a safe altitude. The second one was just starting to climb above the tree line when machine-gun fire ripped a staggered line through its back end, cutting off the tail rotor and hitting the gas tank. Barton and Coulson ducked and covered, shielding their faces from both the explosion and the falling debris.

"Down!" shouted Barton, as the machine-gun fire started up again, and both agents threw themselves flat in the snow. Barton belly-crawled over to Coulson.

"You OK Barton?"

"Apart from the entire operation being FUBARed, and losing that pilot and our ride out of here you mean? Yeah boss, I'm OK. You hit anywhere?"

"No, I'm good."

"With the snow coming down the way it is, the only way they're gonna hit us is by accident, anyway," said Barton, trying for one note of optimism.

"Fuck." said Coulson, and then Barton knew how bad things really were, because Coulson didn't swear in the field unless he needed to light a fire under some dimwit, or things were seriously that fucking bad.

Coulson pulled the bulky satellite radio out of his parka and hit the button.

"Coulson to Sky1, do you read?"

"Sky1 here."

"What's your status?"

"We're OK here, we've got a couple of holes, but they didn't hit anything important - we'll drop off our cargo and then come right back for you."

"Negative. Opposition is still active in the area, and we can't clear it for you. We'll proceed on foot to the secondary evac point."

"Roger that."

"You got all your gear?" Coulson asked Barton.

"Yeah, I packed up while we were waiting for the choppers. Where's the secondary evac point?"

"Five miles from our original location."

"Which means 35 miles from here. Fuck. Well, I guess we better get going then, huh?"

Coulson nodded, profoundly grateful that it was Barton he was stuck in this situation with, and not some wet-behind-the-ears junior agent that he'd need to coddle, or someone who would panic or whine or question his decisions. Barton might be an Omega, but he was as capable, competant, and reliable as anyone Coulson had ever worked with, Alpha, Beta, or Omega.

"Barton," he said and waited for Clint to look over at him, "Thanks."

"What for?"

Because he couldn't say, 'For being you,' he settled instead for "You did good. More of those kids would have got hurt if you hadn't been here."

"Just wish I could have done better for that pilot."

"Even you can't see a mile though a blizzard, Hawkeye," Coulson said, giving Barton the absolution he would have denied himself.

Barton just shook his head.

"C'mon, this way." Coulson said, consulting his GPS, and they belly-crawled through the swirling snow to the tree line.

The next twelve hours were, not to put too fine a point on it, hell. Frozen hell, because the blizzard was whipping snow into their faces the whole time. Coulson played it by the book, calling a five-minute break after fifty-five minutes of walking, or rather, trudging and sometimes stumbling through the knee-deep snow. They'd check each other's faces and fingers for frostbite and ask each other a math problem or word puzzle to check for first-stage hypothermia. Rations were down to a couple of protein bars each, and they nibbled a little at each stop. Canteens got re-filled with snow and then tucked back inside their parkas to melt for drinking water. 

Trudging through the snow behind Coulson, Clint's thoughts wandered to how he'd willingly follow this man just about anywhere. If anyone else had told him to walk 35 miles through a blizzard in Alaska, Clint Barton's reply would have been a resounding "Fuck you," but he trusted Coulson to know what needed to be done to get them out in one piece - a trust that had been earned and proven time and time again, on mission after mission. And so he put his head down, trusted, and followed. Not just because Coulson was an Alpha, and not even because Clint had secretly lusted after his handler for years. But because he knew Coulson would get them to safety, no matter what.

They'd been in worse situations, much worse. Neither of them were injured, they knew where they were going, the secondary evac point was a well-provisioned cabin, and they had an excellent chance of successful extraction once they got there. The pain and tiredness were just physical, and though loosing someone on a mission was always bad, after all these years they knew how to deal with it. So when they stumbled through the door of the cabin, and finally closed the blizzard out, they were both in reasonably good spirits. That lasted about as long as it took Coulson to make radio contact with base. Which was longer than it should have been. A lot longer.

While Coulson was fiddling with the radio, trying to get a clear signal, Clint went into housekeeping mode. He lit a fire in the cabin's woodstove, put a pot of water on to boil for soup and another for washing up. He inventoried the cabin's food, equipment, and armaments. The cabin was an eight-foot by twelve-foot box, containing a cot, a chair, a woodstove, and a couple of oil-drums full of supplies, so it didn't take Clint all that long, but he was thorough. Finally the inside of the cabin started to warm up and he peeled off his parka.

'Oh, fuck.' he thought as he got a whiff of himself. For the last few hours that they'd been walking he had hoped that the increasing ache in his lower back was due to the strain of the past four days, but now it was pretty clear to him that that wasn't the case. He was starting to go into heat. They were more than three days overdue on a mission that was supposed to have been an easy 24-hour in-and-out. Clint had submitted his heat-leave paperwork before they'd left, and he was supposed to have been off-duty as of... he checked his watch to confirm the date and time... tomorrow. He stole a glance at Coulson, who had made radio contact, after a fashion, and was painstakingly repeating each coded phrase at least three times before it was understood and acknowledged. Clint could tell by the set of his handler's shoulders that the news he was getting back through the static was not good.

Finally Coulson signed off and in frustration tossed the radio onto the cot in the corner of the cabin.

"How are we set for supplies, Barton? It looks like we're going to be here a while."

"We're good for food and firewood, sir, and there's no shortage of snow outside to melt for water. How long of a while, exactly?"

"The storm is bad and getting worse - the radio was so bad because the satellite signal can't punch through the cloud layer. Not to mention that there's no way a chopper can land in this. We're going stuck here for a few days."

"Um, any chance of getting a more precise estimate than that, sir?"

Coulson cocked his head, surprised, but not annoyed, because he knew Clint Barton well enough to trust that he had a good reason for pressing for more information.

"Only as precise as weather forecasts ever are. Best estimate is that we're looking at two to three days before a chopper is going to be able to get in here to evac us. You said the supplies were good..."

"Oh yeah, the supplies are fine."

"Then what is it Barton?"

Clint took a deep breath. There was no point in putting this off, Coulson was an Alpha and he'd know himself within a couple of hours of them sharing this tiny space. Hell, if he hadn't been so pre-occupied with the radio, he'd probably know already.

"Sir, you'll remember that a few days before we left on this mission I put in a request for heat-leave that was due to start," Clint looked at his watch, "18 hours from now."

"Shit. Have you checked the first-aid kit for suppressants?"

"Yeah - there aren't any. It's just a standard emergency trauma kit. I'm not sure they'd even work at this point anyway."

Coulson glanced over at the radio, but even if he could get a signal again, it wouldn't help - there was nothing anyone could do until the weather cleared.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I try to be really careful, but this mission seemed like such en easy in-and-out, and we were scheduled to be back a full five days before..."

"It's not your fault, Barton. I knew the mission schedule when I approved your heat-leave, and I made exactly the same assumption you did, that the mission would be simple and we'd be back in plenty of time." Coulson scrubbed one hand over his face, and looked like he wanted to shake his head to clear it. "How long?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would have expected to have another couple of days, but between the stress and lack of sleep... My back aches like a motherfucker, and, to be honest, Sir, I'm surprised you can't already smell me. It's coming on fast and hard and I'm guessing I've only got another 12 hours or so, at the most, before I'm in full heat."

"Barton, I'm so used to your scent that..." Coulson's nostrils flared and his face shut down. "We need to figure out how we're going to handle this."

"Yeah. Doesn't look like we've got many options, though."

"Let me think for a few minutes, Agent, please."

"Yes, Sir."

Clint went back to the stove and stirred a package of chicken noodle soup mix into the simmering pot of water. Then he went outside and re-filled the largest cook-pot with snow to melt for drinking water. Back in the cabin, he noted that Coulson hadn't moved from the chair he was sitting in, opposite the stove - in fact he hadn't even taken off his parka. Clint didn't want to push him, so he poured the soup into two tin mugs and gave one to his handler. The symbolism of an Omega offering food to an Alpha wasn't lost on him, but he was hoping like hell that Coulson wouldn't notice. He retreated to the cot, which was the only other piece of furniture to sit on, and wedged himself up against the back wall, as far from Coulson as he could possibly get in the small space.

"The only thing I can think of is to construct a snow shelter at a safe distance from the cabin. I'll take the emergency equipment, some candles, and some food. I'll have to take the radio, too, and we'll need to rig some sort of signal..." Coulson trailed off.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Clint asked, staring at Coulson, "Sir?" he added as an afterthought.

"It's the only way, Barton. I don't have the control, in such a small space..." Coulson was staring straight ahead, not looking at him.

"If you think for one minute that I'm going to let you go sit in an igloo half-a-mile from here for three days..."

"Let me, Agent Barton?"

"Yeah. Let you. You might be in charge, but you're my team-mate and my friend, and I am not going to let you do something that stupid and dangerous and potentially fatal, just so that we don't end up... Besides, you have no idea how bad it'll be for me to have to get through this alone."

"But Omegas go though heat alone all the time!"

"Sure, under normal circumstances with lots of aspirin for the heat-fever, and a hot shower for the back pain, and a knotting dildo, it's just about endurable. I've done it when I didn't have any other option - but here? I'm not looking forward to improvising with a rusty soup can, let me tell you."

The look of horror on his handler's face told Clint all he needed to know about how to play this out to get what he wanted - and he did very much want. The idea that he could have Phil Coulson, even just for one heat, even if only because it was a fucked-up situation at the end of a fucked-up mission, even if it made their working relationship a little tense for a while afterwards... Clint had trusted, admired, cared about, and yes, even loved Phil for years. Phil was the solid presence at his side, the calm voice in his ear, the man who looked out for him, and asked his opinion. The senior SHIELD agent who trusted him to pick his own perches. The only person in his life who had never lied to him, and never left him behind. He'd had fantasies of Phil taking him through a heat - Phil's familiar, comforting scent surrounding him and enveloping him as his cock knotted inside him. He wanted Phil, and for once, maybe things were working out to give him something he wanted.

"Look it's not ideal, obviously, but it's not the end of the world. We're good friends and I trust you. Or is the idea of fucking me though my heat so distasteful to you that you'd rather risk dying of hypothermia?"

"No Clint, no - it's not that, of course it's not."

"Then what is it?"

Coulson continued to stare straight ahead at the woodstove, not speaking.

Clint leaned forward on the cot and asked softly, "Phil, what is it?"

"I don't trust myself." Phil said so quietly that Clint was sure he's mis-heard.

"I don't understand?"

"I don't trust myself not to..." Phil drew in a ragged breath and sighed, still resolutely staring straight ahead, "Clint, I want you."

"Well, that's good. I want you, too."

"No, you don't understand. I mean I really... For a long time, I... Dammit I'm your handler."

"Yeah, so? SHIELD doesn't have any fraternization rules - hell, how could it with all their liberal policies about Omega employment?" Clint was genuinely confused.

Phil looked like he was trying to shrink further into his parka, the cup of soup completely forgotten. 

Clint started to actually worry about him, and got up off the bed. Despite the protest from his back, he crouched down in front of Phil's chair so that he was directly in the man's line of sight.

"Come on Phil, talk to me. What's going on?" Clint had always known that Phil was brave, but his respect for the man increased further when Phil raised his eyes and looked unflinchingly into Clint's to say,

"I want you. Not just now, not just because of this. I've wanted you for a long time. Years. I care for you, Clint, a lot. And if we do this, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop myself from biting you."

"Oh."

"So the way I figure it, the risk of hypothermia is an acceptable alternative to forcing you to end up bonded to me just because a mission went off schedule and..." Phil was pushing himself off the chair and towards the door of the cabin and Clint had to move fast to get there first and stand there, blocking Phil's way out.

"I'm not in heat yet. I'm in complete control of my faculties. I'm a consenting Omega adult with full rights and responsibilities, able to make legally binding decisions about what I want and who I want it with. I want you Phillip Coulson. I want you to take me though my heat and if that means we end up bonded, well then, I'm OK with that."

"Clint, you don't know what you're saying."

"What part of 'I want you' and 'full control of my faculties' wasn't clear Phil - do you think I'm lying to you here?"

"No, of course not. It's... you don't know... I've never done it before!"

"What?"

"Been with an Omega in heat. I've never done it before. My partners have all been Betas. I have no idea what I'm doing with you - that's why I'm afraid I'm going to bite you. I love you and I want you and..."

Clint kissed him. 

It was dirty pool, in a way, because he knew how strong his pheromones already were in the confines of the tiny cabin, but Phil had just said he loved him, and there was no way in hell Clint was going to let him get away with that. Their mouths mashed together and when Phil didn't struggle to get away from him, Clint licked his tongue across Phil's lips and Phil's mouth opened to draw him in. They kissed hungrily, Clint's holding Phil's face, Phil's hands finding their way into Clint's hair and gripping, dragging a moan from Clint as his mouth was being plundered by Phil's tongue. 

The sound seemed to snap something in Phil and he pushed away from Clint. While Phil was still gasping for breath, Clint took the opportunity to say,

"I love you too."

"What?"

"I love you too. I love you and I trust you and I want you. I want you to fuck me through my heat and I want you to bite me and I want to be bonded to you. I'm giving you my full, informed consent. I'll write it down and sign it if that will make you feel better, assuming we can find some paper and a pencil."

"You really mean that," Phil said in a tone full of wonder.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"But, how could you want that with me?"

"How could I? How could I not want you to take care of me Phil? You already do - you look out for me, you talk me through missions and you come get me when things go wrong. You trust me and you make me feel like I belong. You're already my safety, my home. How could I not want you to be my bonded Alpha?"

"But that's just what any good handler..."

"Bullshit! You know I had over a dozen handlers before you and most of them were unbonded Alphas and none of them ever made me feel safe, or wanted, or needed, or even all that fucking useful! You're telling me they were all crappy handlers? Or that I suddenly, magically became easier to handle right at the time that we started working together? Bullshit! We work. For whatever reason, you and I make a great team. So let's do it for real. For good. For ever."

"For ever. Clint are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Phil smiled. Clint had seen Phil smile before, of course. Late at night when Phil was still elbow-deep in paperwork and Clint brought him a cup of coffee and a not-quite-petrified Danish from the commissary, there was a little quirk at the corners of his mouth. At the end of a good day when a complicated mission went really well, there was a small satisfied smile on his face. The last time Phil got shot and ended up in surgery, and Clint had been there at his bedside, waiting for him to wake up, Phil had smiled up at Clint when he said, "Welcome back, Sir." But this smile was like nothing Clint had ever seen on Phil's face in the six years they'd been working together. His eyes lit up. His teeth showed. He looked genuinely, unreservedly, truly happy.

"I'm going to kiss you again now, OK?" Phil said, through the smile.

"Go for it." Clint said, grinning back at him.

Phil stepped into Clint's space, and even this early in his heat he felt the Alpha's presence like cool water quenching a thirst. Phil put one hand to the side of his face and stroked his thumb along Clint's cheekbone. 

"Wanted to do this for so long." he whispered, stroking once, twice more before sliding his hand back into Clint's hair and gripping, firmly but not tightly, and drawing Clint to him. This time the kiss started gentle, with soft touches and nibbles, lips holding and teasing and exploring. Then Phil's tongue snaked back into Clint's mouth and wrapped around Clint's, stroking and pulsing and claiming. Clint relaxed into Phil's body, his scent, his kiss. All too soon, however, Coulson pulled away.

"We, ah... we need to sort some things out before..."

Clint took a deep breath, "Yeah. We do." 

Clint pulled his hands, which had somehow migrated to Phil's ass, back to himself and leaned against the door. Coulson took a step backwards and said, "So, um, I guess we need to eat, right? And get some sleep. Will six hours be enough, do you think? And then maybe we could spend some time talking about ah... logistics. What do you think?"

Clint realized that something must have shown on his face, because the next thing Coulson said was, "What's wrong, Clint?" 

"What's wrong is you're kind of freaking me out here, Sir. I'm used to you making the plan and telling me what to do."

"Sorry, I" Coulson gave a rueful laugh, "I was trying not to go all dominant Alpha on you, just because..."

"Just because you're going to fuck me? Given the circumstances, Sir, I'd really rather you be the calm, collected, in-charge-with-a-plan, Alpha Agent Coulson I know and love."

"I can do that - there's just one thing I need from you."

"What's that?"

"Given the circumstances," Phil said with a grin, "Could you drop the 'Sir' until the evac chopper picks us up?"

"Yeah, OK, I think I can do that, Phil."

"Good, Clint, thank you. OK, here's the plan: Food, then six hours sleep, then we'll sort out logistics. Comments?"

"Yeah. I think we should have the logistics talk while we eat. Like I said before, my heat's coming on faster than it usually does, and these close quarters are probably only going to accelerate things, I think there's a fair chance that when I wake up after six hours of sleep, I won't be in a state to rationally discuss logistics."

"Ok, then. Food and talk, then sleep. You cook, I'm on wood and water."

"Yes, Si....Phil." 

Twenty minutes later Clint handed Phil a tin plate full of steaming beef stew (from a not-too-rusty can) and some biscuits. 

"There's coffee, instant of course, but it's hot and wet and kinda tastes coffee-like." Clint said, gesturing at the mugs that were keeping warm on the corner of the stove. Clint dropped his eyes, suddenly feeling absurdly shy, because this time there was no way either of them could ignore the fact that Clint was offering his soon-to-be-mated-and-bonded Alpha food. 

"Thank you Clint," Phil said warmly, and went to take his place on the chair.

"Um," said Clint from where he was settling himself onto the cot.

"What is it?"

Clint dropped his eyes and stared at the plate in his hand.

"Talk to me, Clint." And Phil's tone was just close enough to what Clint was used to hearing in his ear on the comms that it reassured him enough to ask,

"Would you mind sitting over here, with me?"

"Of course not." Phil said, getting up from the chair and moving over to the bed, "I didn't want to crowd you."

"Kinda want you to crowd me right now," Clint said to his plate of stew.

"Clint, I need you to tell me these things. I don't know what I'm doing here, remember? I want to give you what you need. Not just because I'm an Alpha, but because I love you and I want to make it good for you. Please help me do that, Clint, promise that you'll tell me what you want me to do for you."

"Yeah, OK. I will. Promise."

"Good. Now eat." 

Once they had both wiped their plates with the last crumbs of biscuit, and swallowed the almost-coffee, Phil took a deep breath and asked,

"So logistics. What do we need to prepare for?"

"Well, it's going to be messy. Really, really messy. We don't have much in the way of spare bedding, and that's going to suck. For the first couple of rounds we'll probably be too blissed-out to care, but after that - waking up with your dick stuck to the mattress in a puddle of cold cum is no fun."

"What do you suggest?"

"We've got our two sleeping bags, a couple of tarps, and the blankets on the bed here. I suggest that we put a tarp on top of these blankets to protect them, and then designate one of the sleeping bags as 'disposable'. We'll use that one for the first couple of rounds, then strip it off and change to the other one. And then we'll try to keep that one as clean as possible with spare t-shirts, bandanas, whatever we've got that we can use to mop up and then rinse out and dry by the stove."

"Sounds good to me. What else?"

"Um, well, there's the question of condoms."

"There should be some in the first-aid kit."

"There are six. Which may or may not be enough, we have no way of knowing. But..." Clint stopped.

"Talk to me Clint."

"Well, you know my contraceptive implant is up to date, and my blood work is clean, and I assume yours is also," Phil nodded, "And since we're going to be bonded anyway... I'd... I'd like to feel you Phil."

"You're sure?"

"Totally sure."

"I'd prefer it that way too."

"Good, I'm glad." Clint shot Phil a wide smile, "So no condoms then. As far as... practical stuff, that's all I can think of, really. I mean apart from that it's mostly just a matter of letting nature take it's course."

"OK, so tell me what you like."

"What?"

"I've never done this before, and I meant it when I said I want to make it good for you, Clint. Tell me what you like an Alpha to do for you while you're in heat."

Clint heaved a sigh and shifted a little closer to Phil, trying to get just a fraction more skin contact where their bare forearms were touching to ground himself. He was going to hate this part, but he knew he had to tell Phil the truth.

"I had my first heat when I was seventeen. I was still with the circus. I never got any kind of education about what it meant to be an Omega, no one gave me the 'birds and the bees' talk or anything like that. I just heard all the bullshit that a bunch of misfits and circus freaks threw around, and I had no way to tell how much, if any of it was true. When it became obvious that I was starting to go into heat, one of the Alphas, the elephant tamer, made it clear to everyone, including me, that I was going to be his. He was a big guy, so no one challenged him. He wasn't the person I would have chosen, but..." Clint shrugged.

"But if you didn't choose him, why didn't you object?"

"Because I didn't even know that I could object! Hell, even if I had, it's not like anyone was going to stand up for me."

"You were raped. Your first heat, and you were raped." Coulson's voice was hard, cold steel.

"Technically, I think we were in one of the states that didn't have Omega consent laws at the time, but, well, yeah."

"Name." Phil Coulson ground out the syllable in a demand for retribution, and a part of Clint thrilled at the thought, 'This is the Alpha who is going to protect me for the rest of my life.'

"He's dead, Phil."

"You're sure?" Phil relaxed a fraction.

"Yeah, I checked. A couple of years ago, once I was pretty secure about my position in SHIELD, and I knew some people who'd do me a favour quietly, I had him checked out. Not because I was necessarily going to do anything about it, just because I wanted to know, to put it to rest, I guess. He died over ten years ago." Clint was quiet for a minute and then,

"Phil?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you put your arm around me?"

"Of course. Just ask. For anything you want. You promised me you would," Phil reminded as he snaked his arm around behind Clint's shoulders and gripped his bicep reassuringly.

"I know. What I really want right now is to crawl into your lap, but we need to finish talking about this stuff first. So... it... wasn't great. I mean, when you're in heat the only thing you want is to be filled and fucked and knotted, and that happened, obviously, but..." Clint sighed again, feeling the anger coming off Phil in waves, "He wasn't gentle about it, and he didn't take care of me afterwards, just left me there in a pile of stinking wet blankets, and then ignored me until my next heat, and then it was pretty much the same thing all over again. I left the circus a couple of months later... and I started to learn a little bit more about my biology, and my options. I was on suppressants for a long time. I'm lucky, I tolerate them well. The times when I mis-calculated or didn't have access to safe drugs, I dealt it on my own or I found... someone I could handle being with. You have no idea, Phil what it's like to be so damn needy and vulnerable and desperate that you'd do anything, fucking anything to get filled up by..." Clint buried his face in Phil's t-shirt and choked back a sob.

Phil held him close and stroked his hair, "It's OK, Clint," he murmured, "I'm here. I've got you now. I'm going to take care of you, I promise. I'm going to be so good to you, so gentle with you. No one's ever going to hurt you like that again. I'm going to take such good care of you. You're never going to be alone again. I'm here. I've got you."

The words, the strong, protective arms around him, and Phil's familiar, reassuring scent worked together to calm and ground Clint. After a minute he sat back up, pausing to kiss Phil’s neck on the way.

"So now, SHIELD medical lets me suppress every second cycle, and my cycle runs long, almost five months, so I only have to go through a heat every ten months or so, and for the last few years Nat has been... ah... helping me through it."

"But Romanov's a Beta!"

"Yeah, but I trust her and she's very handy with a knotting dildo."

Phil thought back to the phrase Clint had used earlier, 'someone I could handle being with,' and put two-and-two together. "Clint are you telling me that you haven't been though a heat with an Alpha since...?"

"Yeah. I've got authority figure issues and trust issues, remember? It even says so in my personnel file."

Coulson rubbed free hand across his face in a gesture Clint was very familiar with from ops that were so far beyond FUBARed that even Phil couldn't make sense of them.

"So not only am I worried about doing something wrong, and afraid of hurting you..."

"No." Clint interrupted - his turn to be forceful and insistent, "Phil you are not going to hurt me. You don't have to worry about that. You won't hurt me. You can't."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do. Believe me on this one Phil, please. You may have a couple of inches on me, but I outweigh you by twenty-five pounds, and we've sparred together enough times that I know your strength - you can't hurt me."

"But when we're sparring, I'm always in control - when you're in full heat, I won't be. I'll..."

"You'll be giving me exactly what I want - exactly what I need - which is for you to fuck me as hard as you possibly can. If Nat were here she could tell you the number of times I've screamed at her to fuck me harder with that goddam piece of silicone. And you know what I was thinking while Natasha Romanov was pounding my ass with a fucking rubber dildo? I was wishing it was you, Phil. I was remembering your scent and thinking about every time you've ever touched me and wishing I could have you. I want everything you can give me, Phil, as hard as you can give it to me. I love your strength, your power - it makes me feel safe."

"Clint," Phil held him tight and nuzzled his neck for a minute. "Rationally I know that you're right, that you're as strong as I am, and I'm not likely to hurt you, but there's a part of me that still..."

"Social conditioning," Clint said.

"What?"

"Omegas are small, weak, fragile."

"I don't believe that - I never have. We're not just our biology."

"Of course you don't believe it, consciously. You're an intelligent, educated man who sees individuals, not stereotypes, but for your entire life everything around you has told you that Omegas are weak and fragile - and that has wormed its way into your psyche."

"I've never thought of it like that, but you're probably right." Phil chuckled, "You know, when I first started thinking about you ah... sexually? It was right after the first time we sparred. Remember? We went five rounds and neither of us managed to pin the other?"

"Sure, I remember."

"I was in the shower after and found myself thinking, 'Now that's an Omega I could take without worrying about hurting him.' I'd never thought of you as an Omega before - I mean I knew you were, of course, but I didn't think of you that way - as potential mate I mean, until you nearly put me on my back..."

"Is that why you've never been with an Omega during heat? You were afraid of hurting someone?"

"That's a big part of it, yes. But I also felt that... I guess I'm a romantic. I always felt that if I was going to take an Omega through a heat, I wouldn't want it to be just because I happened to smell good to them, you know? I'd want it to mean more than that."

Clint was quiet beside him, and could hear and feel the slight tension in the voice he knew so well.

"There's something else, isn't there. Some other reason? Sorry, I have no right to pry."

"Clint, we're going to be bonded. I think that pretty much gives you the right to pry." Phil sighed. "Yes, there's something else. When I said I didn't trust myself... That terrifies me. The idea of not being in control of my own actions - when there's another person... an incredibly vulnerable person involved? I... You may have noticed that I'm a bit of a control freak. It even says so in my personnel file..."

Clint laughed, and then grabbed Phil and kissed him. 

"It's going to be OK. I promise you. It's you and me here, Phil - we love and trust each other. It's going to be OK. Hell, it's going to be better than OK, it's going to be amazing."

Clint's optimism went a long way towards reassuring Phil, and he found himself smiling, and for the first time since Clint had dropped the bomb on him about his heat, actually looking forward to what was going to happen between them.

"I hope so. But first we need to get some sleep."

Clint nodded and they spent the next few minutes banking the woodstove for the night and organizing sleeping bags and other gear. 

"Um, you're going to..." Clint indicated the cot, "That is... we're going to, um, sleep together, right?"

"If that's what you want."

Clint nodded. Phil realized that he was still having a lot of trouble asking for things, and figured out that he was going to have to try to be pro-active in getting the information he wanted out of Clint, "Clothes, no clothes? Underwear?" he asked. 

"Um... no shirts would be good, 'cause um... skin-on-skin is very... ah... comforting. But it's probably best if we keep our pants on for now, OK?"

"Whatever you say," Phil said, stripping off his shirt and then sitting down on the edge of the cot to untie his boots. Clint followed suit.

"Where do you want me?" Phil asked when he'd stuffed his socks into his boots and arranged them neatly under the corner of the cot.

"Um, behind me - spoon style?"

"Sounds good." Phil hiked himself over and lay down on his side with his back to the wall of the cabin, then waited for Clint to settle in. When Clint didn't move, Phil said softly,

"It's going to be OK."

"It's not that. I'm OK, I just..." Clint lay down on his side with his back to Phil and swung his legs up onto the cot. He inched backwards until his back was touching Phil's chest, and stopped, then took a deep breath and let himself relax into the contact.

"Phil?"

"Yes?"

"Put your arm around me?"

"Sure," Phil said, carefully keeping his voice level despite what having an Omega on the verge of heat cuddled up to him was doing to his brain, not to mention his groin. Phil draped his free arm over Clint and, working from guesses and taking a chance, pulled him a little closer.

Clint wrapped his own arm around Phil's, held on tight, and sighed.

"Wanted this for so long. Feels so much better than I ever imagined it could." Clint tried to communicate the feeling of being exactly where he wanted to be: held close in Phil's strong arms, basking in his familiar, comforting scent.

Phil, on the other hand, felt like he'd just been hit by a freight train carrying several hundred tons of bricks. He had always been completely convinced that his own Alpha urges were well satisfied by his job. He was a good handler, a very good one. He looked out for his agents, he made sure they had everything they needed to do their jobs, he took good care of them in the field, went to the wire for them when things got fucked up, and never left anyone behind. Up until this very moment he had been entirely sure that he would never feel the kind of ownership towards an Omega that was the worst stereotype of the domineering Alpha. But holding Clint in his arms, he felt an overwhelming surge of protectiveness and possessiveness. 'My Omega,' his brain was chanting at him, 'Mine! Mine to love, mine to protect, mine to mount, mine to care for, mine to fuck, mine to cherish, mine, mine, mine!' Clint was going to hate this. Clint was a strong, independent, adult who could damn well take care of himself and had proven that hundreds of times over, to Phil and to everyone else he had ever met. Clint didn't need...

"Mine," Phil heard himself whisper, his nose buried in the back of Clint's neck.

"Yeah," Clint said softly back, "I've been yours for a long time. I just wish I had known sooner that you actually wanted me."

Phil felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and blinked them away. "I love you."

"I love you too. Goodnight Phil."

"Goodnight Clint."

~~~~~~

 

Clint woke up when he felt Phil moving behind him, and heard the soft 'click' of the radio.

"What is it, Phil?" He asked, only half-awake.

"Just checking to see if I can get a signal. Go back to sleep."

Clint listened as Phil spent a few minutes trying to get anything other than static on the receiver, then turned off the radio and settled back down behind him.

"Why?"

"Because if the weather clears up unexpectedly, I don't want a chopper showing up at the door when we're not expecting it and, ah... interrupting."

"Oh, yeah. Good thinking."

"How are you doing?"

"OK. Good actually. Hmmm," Clint stretched a little in Phil's arms, "My back has stopped hurting."

"That's good, right?"

"It's fantastic. Must be your pheromones."

"Any idea how close?"

"I'm not sure. Pretty close, I think. It... it feels different from what I'm used to." Clint felt Phil stiffen a tiny bit with concern, so he quickly added, "Good different. I... usually there's this feeling of desperately needing something that's not there. But I'm not feeling that this time, I guess because you're right here - my body knows that it's going to get what it needs, so instead there's just... anticipation. It's nice."

"I'm glad." Phil kissed the side of his neck, where his bonding gland was starting to swell. Clint shivered at the touch, but Phil just drew him closer and said, "Go back to sleep now."

"OK."

The next time Clint woke up, it was because Phil was gently kissing, licking, and mouthing the swollen bump of his bonding gland. The cool, wet tongue swirling across the hot, tight skin felt incredibly good, and Clint moaned softly in appreciation, and just continued to enjoy the sensations, until he realized that he was getting very hard, and very wet. 

"Phil," he said quietly into the half-light that filtered in though the cabin's windows.

Phil stopped his ministrations, but didn't speak immediately, and Clint realized that he hadn't been completely conscious of what he was doing.

"Sorry." Phil whispered back, "I woke up to try the radio again, but I got... distracted."

"Yeah, I think that's probably because..."

"Right."

"It feels - felt great, by the way. Look, um... if it's OK with you, I'm going to take my pants off, and maybe you could do the same, and then maybe you could go back to doing that for a bit, and then, well, I think it'll be just about show time."

"Sounds good to me." Phil said, his voice rough with desire. It took them only a couple of minutes to get naked and Phil ended up on top this time, with Clint lying on his back looking up at him.

"Is this OK?" Phil asked.

"It's great for now."

"Let me know."

"Don't worry, I will."

Phil kissed him thoroughly, and then his mouth moved back to the hot, tight, swollen spot where his neck met his shoulder. 

"God that feels good. Never knew it could feel that good." Clint moaned as Phil again lapped the lump with his tongue.

"What do you mean?" Phil asked into his neck.

"It doesn't swell up like that normally - I mean, during my heat, when I'm not with... an Alpha."

"Ah." Phil was quiet for a moment, kissing the lump gently. "Are you sure you're sure. About bonding, I mean?"

Clint laughed. "I'm so not legally competent to answer that right now Phil, but yes, I'm totally sure I want to be bonded to you. I love you."

Phil moved so that he could look into Clint's shining eyes, "And I love you."

They held the look until Clint shivered, once, his entire body trembling, and he said,

"Phil... now. I need you."

"Good. How?" Almost before the two short syllables were out of Phil's mouth, Clint had rolled out from under Phil and was on his hands and knees on the bed, ass in the air, presenting himself to be mounted. 

Phil sucked in his breath, "God, Clint, you're so beautiful" he said, his voice ragged with lust. He ran his hand down Clint's flank, then back up again to the back of his shoulder blade as he positioned himself. Clint felt Phil's strong, soft hands caressing his thighs, his back, his shoulders, and then gently spreading his cheeks. Clint was expecting to feel the blunt head of Phil's cock against his ass, and sucked his breath in surprise when what he felt instead was cool and wet and...

"Jesus, Phil, what are you doing?"

"Want to taste you," Phil said, before swiping his tongue across Clint's damp hole a second time, "Is that OK?"

"OK? It's fucking awesome. God, Phil!" Clint moaned and dropped his head onto his arms as he felt the tip of Phil Coulson's tongue squirm into his ass. Clint's muscles spasmed uncontrollably, and Phil took full advantage to work his tongue further and further in as Clint moaned beneath him. Phil's hands spread his cheeks apart and Clint very nearly came when Phil's chin put firm pressure on his perineum. As it was, Clint was hard as a rock and aching. His skin was on fire - not only where it stretched over his engorged cock and swollen bonding gland, but everywhere. The heat was still building and both men felt the next strong shudder that wracked Clint's body.

"Phil, I need..." Clint gasped, and moaned again as he felt Phil's tongue slip out, only to be replaced a moment later by a long, slim finger pressing gently into him. 

"Fuck, Phil..." Clint tried to take a deep breath, tried to form a coherent sentence to explain that he didn't need any prep, he just needed Phil's cock inside him. He felt a second finger join the first and twist and probe and then... Clint moaned again as Phil's probing fingers found his prostate and stroked it gently. He needed... he needed...

"Phil... I'm ready... I need you... to fuck me... now. Please... don't... make me... beg." Clint gasped out in snatches of breath.

Phil slipped his fingers out and shifted behind him. Clint felt one cool hand laid gently on his spine with a whispered, "Never love, never," and he sighed in relief as he felt the head of Phil's cock nudging his hole. Phil pushed with gentle, even pressure and slipped into him easily in one long, slow, smooth thrust.

Phil laid his hands on Clint's shoulders' steadying himself. "So good, Clint. God, so good. Never dreamed it would be this good," he whispered, stroking his hands along Clint's back and shoulders before moving them to his hips. Phil wrapped his strong hands around Clint's narrow hips, anchoring them both firmly before he pulled slowly back out until just the head of his cock was still inside Clint. He held for a moment and then buried himself back inside his Omega with another smooth, slow thrust.

"Phil. God Phil," Clint gasped. "Never felt like this. Never knew it could be like this. Love you, Phil."

Phil leaned over Clint and planted a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Love you too," he whispered, then straightened back up and resumed the slow rhythmic thrusting. 

For a while, Clint just floated on the exquisite sensation of Phil thrusting deep inside him, but the heat was still building and soon enough another shudder passed through him. This seemed to spark something in Phil, because Clint felt the hands on his hips grip tighter, and there was more force at the end of the next thrust.

"Yes, Phil, yes. Fuck me Phil, fuck me hard."

Clint heard Phil exhale and could almost feel him giving himself permission to let go of the control that he had clung to until now. The next thrust was harder and faster, and, Clint, knowing how much Phil needed to hear it, cried out,

"Yes, Phil, yes. So good."

Phil let himself go. This was Clint under him. Clint who could out-run him and out-lift him and go five rounds on the training mats with him. Clint who had scaled the side of a building one-handed with a broken arm. Clint who had followed him through a snow storm for twelve hours. Clint who loved him and wanted him and could take everything Phil had to give. Phil tightened his grip on Clint's strong, muscular body, knowing he was leaving bruises and not caring because he knew Clint wouldn't, and started to pound, abandoning himself to the pure animal satisfaction of taking his Omega.

Clint could hear Phil growling deep in his throat as he pounded into him, and an answering keening sound came from his own lips. Being fucked, pounded, taken by Phil was literally breathtaking, and Clint was using all the capability for rational thought he had left to make sure he was still gasping for air at regular intervals. Another shiver of heat-fever ran through him and he felt like his skin was going to split open. Phil roared behind him and after one more powerful thrust he stopped moving. Clint dragged in another lungful of air and tried to brace himself for what was coming next as he felt Phil's knot start to swell inside him. 

Phil shifted his knees a little, trying futily to get deeper into Clint. Phil was operating purely on instinct now, all rational thought had been burned away by Clint's heat. As the knot grew large enough to anchor them firmly together, Phil draped himself over Clint's back and ran his hands down Clint's arms, meshing their fingers together and gripping hard. 

To Clint, who was feeling Phil's knot continue to swell inside him, pressing mercilessly on his prostate, Phil's sweaty chest against his back felt like a cool breeze on a hot day. Every muscle in Clint's body tensed, waiting for his orgasm to be ripped from him - but instead what he felt next was a sharp shock of pleasure as Phil fastened his lips to the side of his neck over his bonding gland. 

"Yes, Phil. Do it. Yes." Clint managed to gasp out, not knowing if Phil needed, or could even hear this final acquiescence, but giving it anyway. He felt Phil's teeth on his skin and there was a brief moment of surprise that there was no pain as Phil bit down hard, ripping through the thin layer of skin and into the swollen gland. Clint smelled the musky scent, felt a trickle of oily fluid run from his shoulder down his chest, and then felt the first pulse of Phil's orgasm within him before he went over the brink himself, and everything went white.

When he came back to himself, Clint was surprised to find that he was still on his hands and knees on the bed. Phil was still draped over his back, his knot impossibly huge and pulsing gently in Clint's ass as Phil shot another load deep into him. But what had probably brought him around so quickly was the fact that Phil was licking - more like lapping - the side of his neck and his face, tongue industriously spreading the viscous musky oil from Clint's bonding gland like a wolf in a nature documentary, down to the small satisfied growls and slight snuffling sounds. Clint would have laughed if it hadn't been so damned erotic. As it was, when Phil swiped his tongue across Clint's lower jaw, he turned his head and captured his Alpha's mouth in a kiss. The taste was strange, a combination of the newly discovered taste of Phil himself, Clint's own sweat, and the musky oil mixed as Phil worked Clint's tongue. After a minute, Clint was surprised to discover that he could somehow feel Phil coming back to himself, the animal Alpha part of his brain receding and the thinking human taking over again. The kiss began to feel less like staking a claim and more like sharing an embrace, and then their lips parted, and Phil's eyes opened.

"Hey," Clint said softly, "You OK?" 

"Ye.." Phil's voice crackled, and he blinked and cleared his throat before trying again, "Yes, I'm fine. You?"

"I'm good."

"I'll say." Phil smiled as they both felt yet another spurt pulse from Phil's cock.

"You need to lie down?" Phil asked, well aware that coordinating a controlled topple onto their sides was his next responsibility.

"I was thinking maybe I could just sort of slide flat, I don't mind you staying on top of me." Clint suggested.

"You sure? Won't I be too heavy?"

"How long?"

"Don't know."

"Of course." Clint kept forgetting that Phil had never been with an Omega before, which meant he'd never knotted before.

"Average is around ten minutes."

"Yeah, I know. Let's try it."

Clint started to ease his knees backwards, and Phil went with him, inching back until they were in a knees-and-toes push up position, at which point Clint simply lowered his chest to the bed. 

"Ahhhh. Didn't realize I'd be getting a full bicep workout out of this."

"Comfortable?"

"Very, you?"

"Also very."

"Good. Phil?"

"Hmmm?"

"Best hour of my entire life, just so you know."

"Mine too. Don't worry about falling asleep on me. I won't mind."

"Thanks, I might not have much choice..." and sure enough Clint's eyes drifted closed even as Phil's knot pulsed again inside him.

~~~~~~

The feeling of Phil waking up woke Clint up, and he decided to be a little freaked out about that later, when he was more awake. For now, Clint decided, he was just going to lie here and enjoy as Phil's lips made their way back to his neck and started licking and sucking at his bonding gland again. 

"Sorry," Phil mumbled between licks, "I can't seem to help myself."

"Don't apologize, it still feels great."

"Really? It doesn't hurt at all?"

"Nope. Just feels like pressure and warmth, and it feels good. Can't you tell?"

"Yes, I can. So that's the bond, then."

"Guess so. I could feel when you woke up."

"You should drink some water."

"We both should. Can you reach the canteen?"

Phil shifted on the bed and snagged a canteen from where they'd left it on the floor by the cot. He unscrewed the top and offered it to Clint who took a long swallow then handed it back. Phil took a swig and then capped the bottle and put it back on the floor. 

"I should get up and stoke the fire."

"How long were we out?"

Phil checked the display on his phone as he slowly shifted into a position from which he could sit up and swing his legs off the cot. 

"About two hours."

"Yeah, that's about right. Next round will be soon."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll just stoke the stove and re-fill the..." Phil had levered himself off the bed and taken two steps away from the cot when he heard Clint whimper and he found himself stumbling back, and reaching out. The next thing he knew he had a hand on Clint's thigh and both of them were breathing heavily. 

"OK, what was that?"

"The bond again, it's got to be."

"So that 'Never and always touching and touched' stuff isn't just pretty poetry then? This is going to be kinda inconvenient on missions."

"It'll fade."

"How do you know?"

"I did a lot of reading."

"On bonding? When?"

"When I was younger I wanted to know absolutely everything there was to know about my physiology. I wanted to know what was going to happen to me. I wanted to know what was true and what was bullshit."

"Control freak."

"Then when I joined SHIELD and found out I'd be working closely with Omegas, I did a bunch more reading, to make sure I knew what to expect in case..."

"In case you got stuck with an Omega in heat on a mission?"

"No, just in case... well, in case of anything. Control freak, remember?"

"Yeah. So do I have to hold your hand while you stoke the stove or something?"

"Let's try to separate again, now that we're prepared for it." 

"OK."

During this conversation, they had unconsciously moved back into contact, and so Phil shifted on the cot until he was only touching Clint with the one hand on his thigh.

"Ready?"

"Sure."

Phil lifted his hand off and they both winced.

"I don't like it, but I can deal with it."

"Same here."

"Go do the goddam stove."

Phil moved as quickly as he could, throwing two fresh logs on the fire and snagging a pot of melted snow-water before hurrying back to the cot and sitting down within Clint's reach. Clint had a hand on the small of his back before his butt hit the bed.

"So, tell me more about your research on bonding."

"Let me just..." Phil was pouring water from the cooking pot to the canteen and trying not to spill. He put the pot down and offered the canteen to Clint before screwing the top back on. The both drank, and then Phil settled himself back on the bed. Clint snuggled into him, letting his head fall onto Phil's shoulder. Phil ran a hand into Clint's hair, and Clint stroked his thumb up and down Phil's thigh.

"Bonded couples report different levels of awareness of each other outside of heat. Some bonds are so strong they can always tell if their partner is awake or asleep, hurt, or deeply upset or feeling some other strong emotion. There are reports of basic telepathy under extremely stressful situations, but they're only anecdotal. Most people just feel the bond on a subliminal level - they know it's there, they can feel that they are bonded. And, of course, Alphas know when their partners are going into heat - which is presumably the evolutionary basis of the bond."

"So we won't know what kind of bond we have until my heat finishes?"

"Probably."

"OK." Clint shrugged.

"OK? That's all you have to say about it?"

"What do you want me to say? I don't know what's going to happen and I have no control over it anyway, so it's just wait-and-see. Like most of the rest of my life, really, so yeah."

Phil opened his mouth to speak, but Clint didn't get to hear what he was going to say because a surge of heat-fever rolled though him and left them both gasping. Then Phil was all over Clint, kissing and licking and stroking his mouth, face, shoulders, chest. Clint abandoned himself to the feeling of being both possessed and worshipped, as the Alpha instincts in the back of Phil's brain resumed their chant, "Mine. Mine. Mine!"

"Yes. God, Phil. Yes. Yours. Please. Take me. Yours." Clint had no idea if he was speaking out loud or not, but he knew Phil could hear him regardless. The feedback loop of the bond was making him almost delirious from the sheer amount of sensation that was crashing though him, his own arousal feeding Phil's. This time there was no holding back, no concern, no struggle to hold onto control. They were mated and bonded and in the throes of Clint's heat. There was only the sensations of hands and lips dragged over skin, only burning desire about to be fulfilled, only need and response, filling and thrusting and sharp, sweet completion. 

"Love you." Clint gasped out as Phil wrapped an arm around his chest from behind and pulled him in close, his knot pulsing.

"Love you too." Phil murmured into Clint's hair, and then let himself drift, then sleep.

~~~~~~

They woke again a couple of hours later, sated and somewhat sore. Phil shifted on the bed and grimaced as his knee landed in a large cold damp spot on the sleeping bag. He could feel sticky-flaky half-dried cum on his thighs, and knew that Clint's butt and chest were similarly covered.

"I think we should try to clean up a little," he said, planting a kiss on the top of Clint's head, "You stay here, though. I'll take care of it."

"I can..." Clint started to protest, levering himself into a half-sitting position, only to be met with a hand in the middle of his chest pushing him firmly down. 

"I want to, Clint. Please, let me?"

The combination of pleading in Phil's voice and love in his eyes made Clint sink back down into the cot and smile, "OK." 

Phil moved to the end of the cot and gave Clint's shoulder a squeeze before moving away. The shock of separation was much less this time, the strength of the bond was fading as Phil had predicted it would. Clint felt a little sorry for the loss, no matter how impractical it was, but then a warmth spread through him as Phil came back to the cot with a pot of warm water and a bandana, and started to sponge Clint clean.

"Hmmm... nice."

"Good. Stand up over here for a minute so I can do your butt?"

Clint got up and winced a little as he stood.

"You ok?"

"Fine, just a tiny bit sore. Good sore - from being knotted." Then he sighed aloud in pleasure as Phil carefully wiped between his butt cheeks and thighs. "We should change to the clean sleeping bag while we're at it."

Washing and changing of bed-linens accomplished, they snuggled back down together, Clint stretched out on his back and Phil on his side next to him, fingers idly playing over his chest and shoulders.

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt at all?" Phil asked, his fingers brushing gently near his own bite marks and the torn skin over Clint's bonding gland "It looks pretty badly mangled."

"Nope, feels fine."

"I'm glad. It's going to scar badly, though, I'm afraid. Sorry about that."

"Don't..." and Clint turned his head to the side to cover the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes.

"Clint, what's wrong?" Phil cupped his jaw and tried to turn Clint back to face him, but Clint resisted. 

"I hate this." he said through clenched teeth. Phil could see the tear trickling down his cheek and wiped it away with the ball of his thumb.

"Clint, you just let me give you a sponge bath, even though I know you're perfectly capable of washing yourself. You let me because I wanted to, and I wanted to because my hormones are telling me to coddle and pet you. I don't think any less of you because your hormones are making you weepy. Whatever it is it'll be OK, I promise, just tell me what upset you, please?"

Clint blew out his breath and tried to steady his voice around the lump in his throat, "Don't want you to be sorry."

"You don't want me to be sorry... that you're going to have a scar?"

Clint nodded and then said quietly, "Don't want you to be sorry that people will see your mark on me."

Phil closed his eyes as he understood the deeper meaning of what Clint was saying. He touched Clint's jaw again and this time his head turned to look up with tear-stained eyes.

"I'm not sorry, Clint. I'll never be sorry. I should have said this when we were talking about it earlier. I am honoured and fiercely proud that you agreed to bind with me, Clinton Francis Barton. We'll shout it from the rooftops, if that's what you want to do."

Clint laughed a little, "No, that's OK. I just... I..." Clint gave up trying to explain what he was feeling and buried his face in Phil's shoulder, holding on tight, and being held.

"I love you," Phil whispered into his hair, then kissed him again. "We left on a mission a week ago as colleagues and friends. We'll be going back as bond-mates. A lot's going to change, and we didn't have time to work any of it out in advance, so some things may not go completely smoothly. But I don't want you to ever think that this isn't exactly what I want. We'll work it all out as we go, and everything's going to be fine, I promise. OK? Do you believe me?"

"Of course I do Phil, I know we'll work it out, it's what we do."

"Yes, it's what we do."

 

~~~~~~

Four-and-a half months later...

Clint arrived home to his and Phil's apartment to find a large box with a UPS sticker on it blocking the door. He keyed open the door, and then gently shoved the box into the apartment with his foot. He left it there for Phil to find when he got home, and dropped his gear on the sofa before heading to the shower.

Phil was home when he got out, his laptop set up on the dining room table, a cup of coffee on one side, a notepad on the other. His suit jacket was hung over the back of the next chair, and his tie was loose, collar undone. Clint wondered what he was working on, how urgent it was, and what his chances of seducing his bond-mate into bed were. Deciding to try anyway, he padded silently up behind Phil's chair and planted a kiss on his left ear.

"Hey," Phil said, quickly moving the mouse to minimize the window he'd been looking at. Not quickly enough to avoid making Clint instantly curious, though.

"What were you looking at? Top-secret eyes-only work stuff? Or maybe porn?" Clint teased.

"Um... actually, it's something I wanted to talk to you about," Phil said in a tone of voice that Clint had become all-too-familiar with the past week. Phil had been preparing for Clint's upcoming heat as if it was a particularly complex mission. He'd quizzed Clint about his preferences for everything from shower heads to snack foods, and had spent hours researching various... products. Clint realized that the box probably contained the special stay-dry super-absorbent bed sheets that Phil had ordered.

"Sure," Clint said, keeping his tone light. It made him feel all warm and loved that Phil was going to this much trouble, even if he did think it was a little bit un-necessary. After all, they would be home and warm and dry and have a big stack of clean sheets, and hot water in the bathroom taps - that was as much luxury as Clint needed for a heat, but Phil obviously had other ideas. So Clint was surprised when Phil clicked the window back open not to see some kind of fancy heating pad or massage oil, but instead a page of tattoos. 

"How do you feel about these?"

Clint looked at the images on the screen. They were of bonded Alphas who had chosen to get a tattoo on their neck where the bonding gland would be in an Omega. They ran from the predictable Chinese characters for "love" to the kitschy entwined hearts to the obviously very personal - a treble clef, a yellow balloon, an oak leaf... They were a fairly new idea, popular mainly among the young, white, middle-class, liberal Alphas. Clint had never thought much about them, mostly because he never imagined himself being bonded, but he found himself drawn to the simplest image on the screen, an outline of an oak-leaf, dark against pale skin. Something about it made Clint think he could somehow feel the love that the Alpha who wore it had for his bond-mate.

"You... you're thinking about getting one?" Clint asked, incredulous.

"Only if you like the idea." Phil turned to look at him, eyes bright. 

"I love the idea, Phil. Of course I do! What... what were you thinking of getting?"

"I want you to help me choose, obviously, but something along the lines of..." Phil flipped to the back of the notepad where there were several little sketches, line drawings of a hawk in flight, a hawk's head in profile, a bow and arrow, a stylized letter 'H'. "These are just some rough sketches, I didn't know if you'd like the idea..." Phil trailed off.

Clint swallowed around the lump that was growing in his throat, "Pass me a pen?" Phil reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed Clint his pen. Clint carefully drew a small sketch in five lines, the straight shaft of an arrow, the triangle of the arrowhead, and three Vs for fletching. "How about just that?" he asked, his voice quiet and tentative.

"I like it. I like it a lot, and if that's what you want, then that's what I'll get."

Clint imagined the sketch he had just made as a tattoo on the side of Phil's neck. It would be covered by his shirt collar most of the time, but Phil would see it every morning when he looked in the mirror, and maybe, on days when they weren't together, Phil would raise a hand to the mark and touch it tenderly, like Clint did with his bonding scar. 

"You're sure? You really want to do this?"

"I really want to. Betas get married and wear rings for a reason. I can always feel our bond, but it's nice to have an external symbol, too. Something you can see, and touch."

At Phil's words, Clint slid his hand into Phil's shirt collar and ran his fingers over the spot. Phil shivered as if he was as sensitive there as Clint was, and pulled his lover down for a kiss. The kiss led to groping and the groping led to bed and very enthusiastic sex. 

Afterwards, lying contented in each other's arms, Clint asked, "So when were you thinking about getting this tattoo?"

"After your heat - on the last day of our leave. I don't want to get it before, because I don't want to have to take care of a fresh tattoo when I'm supposed to be taking care of you."

"With all the stuff you've been buying, there's going to be hardly anything left for you to do to take care of me," Clint teased.

"Oh really? Well I'll just have to think of something, then... won't I?"

~~~~~~

As it turned out, Phil thought of more than one thing, and they spent Clint's heat warm and dry and comfortable and well-fed and very, very satisfied. 

On the last day of their heat-leave, they climbed out of bed, showered, put on clothes for the first time in a week, and headed out to their appointment at the tattoo parlour. Phil had, of course, carefully researched this too, and the place was clean and brightly lit and very professional-looking. They held hands as they waited for the artist Phil had spoken to, and when a woman in her mid-thirties with short hair and surprisingly few visible tattoos came over and introduced herself, Phil stood and shook her hand,

"I'm Phil, we spoke on the phone, and this is my bond-mate Clint."

"It's very nice to meet you both," she said, shaking Clint's hand as well. "Come and sit over here, please." She led them to a station in the shop and talked Phil through the procedure, asking a number of medical questions as she laid out her equipment and Phil unbuttoned his shirt. 

"So, this is a very simple design, just the one colour, so it shouldn't take more than a few minutes," she said as she wiped the side of Phil's neck with an alcohol swab. Clint could see that she had a faxed copy of the page from Phil's notebook, with his drawing of the arrow circled, and Phil neat handwriting beside it, "This One." 

"So what I'm going to do is draw a copy of your design on your skin with this special pen, and we'll check that it's exactly the size and location that you want, and then I'll ink it in. OK?"

"Yes." Phil answered, and Clint could see that he wasn't the only one almost (but not quite) trembling with nerves. 

The tattoo artist picked up the pen and leaned forward, but then she stopped and turned to look at Clint. 

"Would you like to draw it?" she asked, offering him the pen. 

Clint took the pen almost out of reflex, but then he stopped and looked at Phil, unsure.

"Go ahead," Phil said, his eyes shining with love, "Make your mark on me."

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

>  **Warning:** Clint had a Omega-verse non-con/dub-con relationship with an Alpha in his past. This is only talked about, not described. Phil refers to it as Clint having been raped. Clint didn't believe it to be rape at the time. There are no descriptions of non-con or dub-con in the story. Know your triggers and please don't read if this might be an issue for you.
> 
> **Author's notes:** Some readers will recognize the phrase "Never and always touching and touched" as part of the Vulcan bonding ritual from the Star Trek universe. I chose to include this quote as a nod to the first slash story I ever wrote, when I was 14, before the Internet existed (yes, I'm old), and before I knew that anyone else anywhere in the universe wrote slash. It was a "Spock and Kirk get stuck on a planet in a cave during a snowstorm and Spock goes into Pon farr" story. Which is pretty much the same plot that I've just written here. I'm not apologizing for sticking with what works. 
> 
> **About the Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics I've chosen to use:** Most of the Omega-verse details I've included here I've seen somewhere else in someone else's story. Thanks in particular to raiining, BeBunny, infiniteeight, and meinterrupted for the fantastic inspiration! The bit about the neck tattoos is mine.
> 
> **Thanks to my wonderful beta-readers:** t! and AdamantSteve
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
